Recycling
by Swissmounty
Summary: Another WHN to "The Return of Ironside", set Autumn 1993, San Francisco
1. Chapter 1

**Recycling**

**Chapter 1**

"Your Honor! I am retired, and by the way, may I remind you that you are a judge, not a cop?!"

"I know, I know. But you also know Carl Reese. He's a good cop, but when he thinks that he has his case set he stops looking. The DA will bring the case to court and everything will be nice and easy. But in this case I think he is wrong. I want to avoid an error of judgment, and I don't want Carl to stand there as an idiot."

"Then tell Reese to keep investigating!"

"Chief – we don't have this kind of time. I can stall the trial for a few days, but that's it then. Please – I need you. It's about the freedom of a probably innocent man, it's about justice and maybe it's also about the peaceful coexistence of different religions in my town."

Ironside covered the mouthpiece and exchanged a glance with Katherine, who had understood most of the conversation, thanks to her excellent hearing.

"It's what you taught them, my dearest, isn't it? Justice and protecting the innocent, and giving people a chance to live in peace," said Katherine softly.

Ironside removed his hand. "I'm on my way. Have Diana prepare a decent dinner, I'll be hungry!" he barked and hung up.

Katherine smiled at her husband, who looked healthy, strong and much younger than his years. "Food is the last thing on your mind, but you couldn't let Mark get away too cheaply, am I right?"

Ironside frowned. "Katherine Ironside, you are an awful sharp woman! I'm glad that you are the only person in the world who can see through me. Don't you ever let anyone know what you know, you hear?"

"You love your 'children', don't you? You have to help them. You will see Diana and the girls as well. Give them my warm regards!"

"You are amazing, my love. I wonder how I deserve you."

"You don't deserve me," she joked. "I'm a gift, to be treasured every day and regaled with a nice present from San Francisco when you come back!"

* * *

Robert Ironside still loved San Francisco. Thanks to the technology boom the town was swelling with money. Some of the old spirit had vanished. In a way, Ironside missed the counterculture, the psychedelic music, even the Hippies. In retrospect they looked like a very colorful decoration to the town... or maybe more: part of its identity. Still the town had a lot going for itself, and above all there was Mark, his very dear friend, with his wonderful wife Diana and their lively teenage daughters.

Ironside settled in their guestroom. Mark had some up-to-date technical equipment at home, the best money could buy: television, computer, several modern phones, fax machine. Judge Sanger was no poor man; he could afford it, and he needed it for his work.

Ironside was still friends with Carl Reese, now Captain Reese, who had to conduct this investigation. Carl wasn't exactly thrilled about Ironside's offer to 'help', but ultimately he knew that the Chief would not just interfere, but actually ensure that justice be done.

Mark presented Ironside all the known facts:

There had been a bomb attempt on the Transamerica Pyramid, similar to the World Trade Center bombing in February_*1_. Yet Frederick Mason, a young police officer, had by chance found the bomb before it went off. He managed to separate the explosive actuator from the bomb. Only the actuator had exploded. Mason was now a hero, of course. He had saved the building and all its occupants.  
But of course a lot of people almost panicked. What if he had not found the bomb or if he had been too late? Had there been hundreds of victims to that attack? The public wanted the guilty parties to be punished with the utmost rigor.

Avesda al Huq, the old imam of a fundamentalist Islamic community, confessed to being the mastermind behind this attack. His son Numan, the new imam, had placed the bomb, he said.  
Numan denied it, but that was to be expected. Traces of dirt in the design of his tires proved that he had been near the Transamerica Pyramid recently, and since the recent World Trade Center bombing everybody knew about Islamic terrorism. Therefore Carl considered it as being proven that these militants associated with the Islamic extremist group Al Qaeda were responsible for the threat.

Yet Mark objected. "You may remember Avesda al Huq. He used to be a troublemaker. He would confess to anything smelling of revolution. But over the last couple of years he's become quiet. I think he is mentally ill. His son is different. He tried to maintain peace with everybody. There was even a minimal rapprochement and a culture of dialogue between his community and other religious groups, including Christians. Of course this could be a perfect camouflage, but personally I can't believe it. I think Numan is a good man – convinced of his religion, certainly, but he's perfectly entitled to that."

Ironside nodded. Mark had developed quite a good common sense. He trusted his instincts enough to at least doubt Reese's case. "This sounds like quite a job; lots of planning and money behind it. There has to be a cartel responsible, or one of the big mob bosses. What do we have to go on?"

Mark agreed. "Not much, unfortunately. The remote control was destroyed – looks like the work of a professional. The explosive used was dynamite. There was not enough of it to do any real damage to a building of this size though."

"Oh?" Ironside raised an eyebrow. "And how does Reese explain this fact?"

"The mastermind behind it is a senile old man. He didn't know how much explosives would be needed."

Another raised eyebrow. "Nothing else?"

"Mason mentioned that he saw a blue Chrysler wagon leave the car deck. He called after the driver, hoping that he would get help from him, but the driver didn't hear him – or wouldn't listen. Understandably Mason didn't read the license plate. He's not even sure of the model of the car. The police put out an APB. The same day, a blue Chrysler wagon was spotted on a road which leads to the disposal site of the incineration plant, but neither could it be verified if it arrived there at all nor if it was the same car."

"Nothing else? That's pretty thin."

"Nothing – except that there is an old acquaintance of ours working at that disposal site: the autistic Afro-American Jeremy Wood_*2_. He collects rubbish there and tries to repair it. He could be a witness, but he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Jeremy? I remember him, but I doubt that he remembers me; he was only a boy back then. If you want a statement from him, get Ed Brown. He took care of Jeremy during the seventies. If to anybody, Jeremy may talk to him! I'll question that young imam first."

"Chief, couldn't you... I mean, you know how overworked Ed is. Eve tries to protect him like a mother hen protects her chickens, but I suppose she won't say no to you..."

* * *

Eve Brown was waiting for her husband, as so often. Her son Danny was sitting on a packed suitcase and reading one of Ed's old physics books from university, which he had randomly picked out on the bookshelf.  
They were ready to leave for the mountains for a few days, but Ed had spent the night in the office. An emergency had come up, and obviously his deputy wasn't able to handle it on his own. He would be worn out after another sleepless night – the third in a row -, but fortunately Eve could do the driving. A few days off would do him good.

When the phone rang she was afraid that it would be Ed to announce that there was a further delay.

"Yes?" she answered somewhat anxiously therefore.

When she heard Ironside's full bass voice she was relieved.

As usual he didn't waste any time with small talk. "Hi, Eve! May I talk to Ed?"

"No, he's not here, but he's supposed to come home any moment."

"Eve, do you remember Jeremy Wood? He was an autistic boy, a witness in a case we stumbled upon in spring 1969. Now he may be a witness in an important case Mark has to deal with, but Mark can't get a statement from him. He won't talk to him and probably he won't remember me either. If I remember well, Jeremy trusted Ed back then. We need him to come down to San Francisco."

"I'll talk to Ed as soon as he arrives. Where can he reach you?"

"At Mark's."

Eve had looked forward to holidays in the mountains – their first as a family and as a married couple -, and for Danny it would be a wonderful experience. Would they have to cancel the holiday, like earlier this year their honeymoon? Ed used to joke that their wedding trip would only become more valuable, the longer they had to put it off.

Five minutes after the call had ended she heard Ed's car.

She explained the situation to him. "Jeremy must be in his thirties now. Mark says that he keeps roaming around the waste disposal site where a car which was involved in an important case may have been seen. He may have noticed something. You kept contact with him for some time after what happened in spring 1969, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did, until I moved away. I managed to get him into a school then, and he did fine, but after that he couldn't find a job because of his handicap. He started collecting garbage and repairing it. Last thing I heard was that his mother died a few years ago."

"What are you going to do, honey?"

Ed took a deep breath. Eve had learned to read his craggy features like an open book. He knew how much she had looked forward to this holiday, even though she would have preferred Paris or another glamorous town. For his and Danny's sake she had agreed to a camping trip in the mountains.

On the other hand – they could not let the Chief down. He had immediately dropped everything and hurried by when Eve had been abducted in September_*3_.

Mark had always been there for them as well. He had helped clear Suzanne from a murder charge last year_*4_.

"I can't do that to you. And Danny needs some quality time with us as well..."

"What about thinking of your needs for once?"

He hugged her tenderly. "No need to think of my needs. You do that for me all the time. Thank you, darling. What is your opinion about what we should do?"

"Let's go to San Francisco together. I'd like to see my parents and Diana and go shopping in my old home town. Maybe that's better than you being available on call!" she grinned almost mischievously.

Danny, who hadn't seemed to be listening, added, "At least there will be a real bed to sleep in without any ants."

* * *

_*1 February 1993_  
_*2 See ff story 'Brother against Brother'_  
_*3 This story is titled 'One too much...'. It's not published yet._  
_*4 Suzanne Dwyer is Eve's daughter, see "The Return of Ironside"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Everybody knew Chief Ironside, retired or not. He was allowed to talk to imam Numan al Huq.  
Numan was a soft-spoken, college-educated man in his late thirties, wearing a suit and tie – which didn't mean anything, but at least it didn't exactly let Ironside think of a terrorist.

"Thank you for seeing me, Chief Ironside."

"Will you tell me your version of this bombing story?"

"I don't really have a personal version to tell, I'm afraid. I didn't place the bomb. I'm sorry to contradict my father, but his information on this is not correct."

He could hardly call his father a liar or a senile man. This was about as far as he would go.

"You know about the traces of dirt in the design of your tires which seem to come from the area of the Transamerica Pyramid. How do you explain them?"

"I got a phone call. Someone said that my father wanted me to come to the Transamerica Pyramid, 13th floor, and meet him there. My father can't hear very well anymore, therefore he often doesn't make phone calls on his own. I believed the caller. So I drove there..."

"When was that?"

"The day of the bombing. I was supposed to be there at 10 am. But I got held up by a car accident on my way, therefore I was late. It must have been around 10.20 when I arrived at the Pyramid. There was a lot of police around and the entire traffic was jammed. Over car radio I learned of the bombing. I was worried about my father who was in the building, but then I heard that there weren't any victims. I wanted to let the police do their work. Therefore I turned around, thinking that I would apologize to my father for not showing up later."

"Where was that accident which delayed you?"

"At the corner Green Street – Leavenworth."

"It should be possible for the police to verify that. This is not quite an alibi, but a strong point for your innocence."

Numan let out a sigh of relief. "Sir, nobody went as far as to ask me this particular question before. You have given me some hope back. You are an impressive man. See – we will never have the same faith, but I think that's not necessary. You may be a Christian and I may be a Muslim, but we can live together in peace. Violence is against our beliefs both as Christians and Muslims."

"I can understand that some radical Muslims want to fight against what they think is Western moral: The way a word like 'love' is used today, or the exploitation of Southern countries by Western banks and companies. It's got nothing to do with Christianity though. It's wrong by every moral or religious standard."

"Thank you, Chief Ironside. You don't just give me my personal hope back. You should go into politics or write books to explain our people the difference."

"Maybe I should. But not only yours. Some of ours as well."

* * *

Since Mark was in court Ironside went to the airport in his custom-built van to get the Brown family. He filled Ed in on the case. Then he drove directly to the disposal site, where the blue Chrysler wagon had been headed.

Ironside was living in the beautiful nature of Sonoma now. At the sight of the huge mountains of debris he became very thoughtful. It was incredible what people threw away. They hadn't learned much since the sixties, when even the scientists had believed that the universe was infinite and that therefore the resources were infinite as well. How could people in 1993 still trust economists who kept postulating an 'ideal' growth of the economy of 2%, totally ignoring the fact that the resources were limited? What shortsightedness! Actually Jeremy Wood was doing a trendsetting job by repairing some of these items and thus reducing the amount of rubbish.

Would Jeremy be working here today?

While the adults were busy looking for Jeremy, Danny wandered off. In his opinion one had to be a neuro-typical individual to be interested in a _man_ when there were so many fascinating _things_ around!  
He found a heap of particularly interesting items: electrical waste. There were radios, TV sets, telephones, even a computer screen! It was a real treasure for a technically interested boy. That they were banked up very close to the refuse bunker didn't bother him at all. He didn't even notice it. Thrilled he started to examine this treasure.

Now Jeremy, who had been working higher up at the site, saw him. "Mine!" he yelled.

At that he started to run towards the child, screaming on top of his lungs all the way down.

Danny became aware of the yelling stranger who seemed to be attacking him. Scared he took a step back. The portable radio which he had picked up dropped from his hand and rolled towards the bunker... and into it.

Jeremy reached the child but didn't pay any attention to him. He only had eyes for his radio. Without further consideration he jumped down into the refuse bunker to retrieve it. He landed clumsily on the conveyor belt and fell towards the wall, hitting his head. Motionless he remained lying.

A small truck was parked beside the bunker. It had delivered some waste material, and the conveyer belt was still moving, although it was now empty. The waste had been transported into a big shredder at its end.

Ironside noticed that the belt was carrying the Afro-American's body relentlessly towards the shredder.  
"Ed!" he shouted.

But Ed, who after spotting Jeremy had started to climb onto the waste disposal site, had already taken off towards the bunker.

Where was the operator of the plant, or the truck driver?! There had to be an emergency switch somewhere! Probably it was behind the truck. No way could Ed reach it in time before Jeremy would fall into the shredding machine. There was only one thing he could do to – maybe – save Jeremy. He jumped down onto the conveyor belt. Just in time he managed to pick Jeremy up and pull him away from the abyss.

Eve had to take care of Danny. He was crying at the top of his voice, scared about what his dad was doing. He didn't understand that he had caused the entire situation. Gently Eve tried to calm him down, but he wasn't ready to listen to her. Uncontrollably he flapped with his arms and even hit Eve until she took a step back.

Jeremy was conscious, but he seemed unable to move. Ed could not pull him over the belt, for there were sprockets on it to transport the waste. Therefore he shouldered him the way he had shouldered many a man since his Marine days. Yet Jeremy wasn't the slight 15-year-old from 1969 anymore, but a tall, well-built adult, while on the other hand Ed wasn't a young man anymore himself. He managed to run against the moving belt for a bit, but then he staggered with his burden. He picked himself up again, ran on. He could not get out of the pit: the walls were too high. His hope was that the employee in charge of the conveyor belt would finally stop the flaming thing. But then he collapsed under the dead weight - on the belt, where neither he nor Jeremy moved anymore.

Ironside saw it. The tragedy seemed to be inevitable. Where in blazes was the operator? Wasn't he supposed to survey the belt?!

Frantically he tried to find a way to stop the plant. He had approached the plant in his wheelchair. Now he saw the emergency switch behind the truck, but he was too far away to use it.

Slowly, relentlessly, the belt transported the two bodies towards the shredder. It wouldn't make a difference between rubbish and human life.

Ironside gritted his teeth and pulled his gun. One chance in a hundred...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Ironside gritted his teeth and pulled his gun. One chance in a hundred... but at least one more than none at all. He aimed very carefully, then he pulled the trigger.

Instantly the belt stopped. Ironside suppressed a sigh of relief.

A man in an orange overall with a sandwich in his hand stormed out of the next building, followed by a guy who had to be the truck driver. "What the hell..."

Then he noticed the two men on the conveyor belt. "For heaven's sake!"

He ran by, while Ed and Jeremy were already helping each other to their feet. He turned around to get a ladder, and to Ironside's immense relief both men managed to climb out of the pit on their own.

"Thanks Chief," said Ed out of breath, "That was some great shooting. One yard more..."

"Three feet," corrected Jeremy, and nobody knew if he was serious or not.

* * *

"I'm very sorry, Jeremy. I'm sure my son didn't want to steal your radio," Ed addressed the Afro-American.

Jeremy had no visible injuries, but he must have a terrible headache. He didn't seem to feel it though. Many autists had a very different perception of pain and other sensations than other people.

"No prob," he beamed and showed the radio which he had somehow managed to grab...

* * *

Meanwhile Eve had explained to Danny that he had by mistake taken Jeremy's belongings. The boy understood now why the man had been so upset; his own reaction would have been quite similar under such circumstances.

"Sorry!" he said therefore. "What are you planning to do with that stuff?"

Jeremy frowned and kept quiet. He wasn't ready to trust this little brat just yet.

"He repairs them," said Ironside.

"You really can do that? Even a computer screen?" Danny was totally excited. "Please, show me how you do it!"

Jeremy thawed, as somebody seemed to be interested in his special field. For him it was perfectly normal that a boy forgot everything over a radio.  
He nodded. "Help!" he ordered, and Danny set out to help him carry his treasure away and load it into a bicycle trailer.

Eve wanted to keep him back, but Ironside stopped her. "Let them go. Jeremy won't hurt him. He may show Danny more than he would show us, and Danny will be able to report what he has seen."

Ed stretched his back, and Ironside taunted, "You are getting too old for this kind of sports, my friend."

"I'm fine." He shook his head. "I should have known better than to bring Danny here. Two autistic persons don't automatically get along. Autists are as different among themselves as neuro-typical people. I should have anticipated that something like this could happen. Two unpredictable guystogether... It could have cost Jeremy's life."

"You weren't to know. Still trying to be perfect?"

"It's the way you trained us to be, Chief, isn't it?"

"I never expected you to be perfect. All I expected was some decent police work!"

"And you didn't get that?" asked Eve tentatively, remembering well how often he had barked at them – at Ed even more so than at her.

"Of course I did! If not - do you think I would have kept you one single day?! You two were the best I could get at that time."

It made both Browns chuckle. This was so typical for the Chief!

Ironside turned serious again. "You are learning fast, both of you. Remember – a few months ago Danny didn't even talk.* But if you prefer dwelling on self-reproach, go ahead. As far as I'm concerned – I'm glad that he is helping us with this investigation!"

Eve gave the operator Mark Sanger's phone number in case the blue Chrysler wagon would show up again.  
Meanwhile Ironside and Ed carefully approached the bicycle trailer, where Jeremy and Danny had loaded up the electric waste.

Ironside encouraged Ed to try his luck with Jeremy.

"You remember me, Jeremy, don't you?"

Jeremy nodded his head.

"May I ask you a question?"

Another nod.

"Have you seen a blue Chrysler wagon around here lately, Jeremy?"

Jeremy's eyes seemed to fix an invisible point on the ground. Ed repeated his question. Now the autistic man shook his head, "No".

Dead end. Bad luck. Maybe Jeremy had been too absorbed in his work. Maybe he hadn't even been here the day of the bombing.

"May we help you with your load?"

Again there was a negative answer.

"May I come to you now to see how you repair things?" asked Danny eagerly.

Graciously Jeremy nodded.

"Great!" shouted Danny and wanted to take off.

"Danny, haven't you forgotten something?" asked his father.

Blankly the boy stared at him, then he understood. "Thank you, Sir!"

To Jeremy it didn't seem to make any difference. What information was there in this kind of small talk, after all?!

* * *

Danny was allowed to stay with Jeremy for the rest of the afternoon, and it made his day. Ironside came to the conclusion that he had a few things in common with a 'neuro-typical' boy after all, but then he had to learn his next lesson about autistic people at Mark's.

Danny refused to enter the house. "It stinks!" he shouted and stood stock still in front of the entrance.  
Maybe one of Mark's female family members used a perfume he didn't like, or it was a cleaning agent or a paint he smelled. Ed went down on one knee beside him to be at his height.

Ironside watched them with interest from a distance. "Can't he get used to it?" he asked Eve in a low voice.

She shrugged. "Probably not. Sometimes Ed gets him to try out something. But that would take all his energy and stamina, and I don't think that Ed has this kind of energy right now – and I don't know if he thinks that it would be worth the trouble."

Ironside suppressed his spontaneous feeling of "just-give-him-a-clout-round-the-backside". He knew that patience was the only helpful strategy with such a child.

"Any ideas what we could do about it, son?" asked Ed.

It was one of the things he had basically learned from Ironside, and it was what Danny had to learn now: Find ways out of trouble. 'Plan B', as they also liked to call it. Danny wasn't very good at finding alternate ways of solving problems; therefore his parents gently forced him into developing that ability.

"We go home."

"Not an option. Our job here isn't done yet. Mark still needs us."

"Hum. Dunno."

Ed waited expectantly for another suggestion.

"Mom's parents live in San Francisco, don't they?"

Now that was true. But they were going on eighty and it would have been an imposition on them to have to deal with an autistic child in their well-arranged household.

"They are too old to have an entire family as their guests."

"Jeremy?" His voice betrayed that he didn't really believe in this possibility.

Ed didn't have to answer this one.

"Ok, I know that it wouldn't work."  
Danny scratched his head as he had seen his dad do when he thought hard about something. It seemed to help him thinking.

"There is a big backyard. Maybe Mark has a tent. You and I could sleep in it."

"Sounds feasible to me. We'll ask him. But what about the ants?"

"I'd rather sleep on an anthill than in this disgusting stench."

Ironside grinned at Eve, "How charming!"

"You can't expect an autistic child to be charming. At least we have a solution for our problem," Eve smiled back.

"Yes, and an aging detective who will be full of black and blue marks tomorrow from sleeping on the ground!"

It turned out that the Sangers possessed a comfortable tent for four persons and more than enough self inflating mats and sleeping bags. Mark's twins decided to join the two guests, but Danny informed them instantly and very decidedly that he would rather tolerate any number of ants, as abominable as they might be, than two giggling girls. Which, by the way, weren't even alternatives. He might have to deal with both giggling girls _and_ ants – what a scary prospect!

At 11pm Ed and Danny went to sleep in their tent in the backyard.

At eleven thirty came the dogs.

* * *

_* ff story "Patterns"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Ed was sound asleep, but Danny wasn't really at ease. You never knew when the invasion of ants – or whatever beasts – would start.

He heard the squeak of the backyard door.

He shook his father softly, then with more determination. "Daddy! Wake up. There's somebody in the garden."

During the time Ed had worked with Ironside the Chief had expected him to be wide awake and operational within a second. Now he was glad that he had never lost this ability. He heard sneaking steps, but not steps of a human being.

"Is this a dog?" whispered Danny. Dogs were his biggest fear on earth.

Ed didn't answer. Quickly he pulled his long frame out of his sleeping bag. "Stay here and play dead!" he ordered. Unfortunately he had left his gun in the house, assuming that Danny snatching the .38 in the dark and shooting at ants, flies or a snail and hitting himself or whoever happened to be around was more likely than anyone intruding the quiet garden. Strolling dogs had definitely not been on his agenda tonight. He grabbed the next piece of clothing within reach – Danny's jeans – and wrapped it around his left arm. He picked up his flashlight and left the tent.

"Fass!"

Ed had no time to locate the shouter. Two dark shadows attacked him at once. He threw the flashlight towards one of them full force, hitting its head. The dog stopped abruptly, then turned around. The other one jumped at him, almost knocking him over. This was a Rottweiler, not much lighter than Ed himself! Ed managed to keep the sharp teeth off his throat by offering him the wrapped arm. He then attacked the animal from behind with his right arm, clenching its throat. He used his own weight to hold the dog down. While it still fought against him, Ed heard a voice from outside the garden, then the other dog came back at full speed. Feverishly Ed thought about what he could do. He wasn't afraid for himself, but how should he protect his child from the second attack dog?!

Suddenly light from a window flooded out into the garden. A shot rang out, then the other dog gave a yelp and ran away. Someone whistled. Ed let go of his adversary and it followed the first one. Doors of a car were slammed shut and an engine was started, but Ed hardly noticed it.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled back towards the tent, where he knew his frightened son was dreading the worst.

Eve came running out of the house. "Ed – oh, Ed, are you all right?"

Breathing heavily he nodded, giving her a quick hug. Then he pointed at the tent, "Danny!"

She understood. She wanted nothing more than to stay with the man she loved, but Danny needed her urgently.

Mark hurried out as well, while trying to find the way into the sleeves of his dressing gown. "Diana is calling a doctor. Do you manage?"

"Don't need a doctor. Need a witness who read the license plate of the dog owner's car," gasped Ed.

Ironside was rolling outside. "These were Rottweilers, right? It was hard to see. But I suppose I hit one."

"You did, Chief. You did. Dunno what..." his voice trailed away, but Ironside didn't expect any thanks. Even for an emotionally strong man like Ed this was a scaring experience.

"That's the last time I saved your sorry backside for today!" Ironside joked to reduce the tension.

Ed grinned obligingly. It was almost midnight. "Deal. Let's start anew tomorrow. And thanks!"

"I have better things to do," grumbled Ironside, trying to hide his concern for his friend.

"What are we going to do with Danny if he doesn't want to come into the house?" asked the judge pragmatically.

He would not want to stay in the garden either, that much was for sure! Right now he was sobbing helplessly. With friendly, soothing words Eve tried to calm him down in the tent. As soon as Ed's breathing was back to normal he joined her.

"He accepted my van earlier today," suggested Ironside. "Mark, put your car out of your garage and mine into it, then he can sleep there."

Danny agreed to sleeping in the van, after he had made sure that his Dad was unhurt. His jeans were ruined, but they had done their purpose of protected Ed's arm.

After all this ruckus Danny was exhausted. "Will you join me soon in the garage?" he asked his father with the typical egoism of a child.

"Sure thing," promised Ed, and Danny happily curled up in the back of the van.

After Mark's daughters had been sent back to bed as well, the adults tried to make sense of the events of the day.

"I heard a man's voice shout 'Fass'. That's a German dog command," Ed said.

Ironside remarked, "The Rottweiler is a German dog as well. Sometimes dog breeders teach German dogs German commands, and people who buy the dogs keep using them. But you are right. It is extremely unlikely that Arab Islamists would talk German to their dogs." It was just another cue that the Al Huqs and the people around them had nothing to do with the crime they were investigating.

"You don't believe that this is a random attack, do you, Chief?" Mark queried.

"I have to give you credit: at least you try to remain impartial!" answered an amused Ironside.

"Then there is most likely a connection to my most important case, I suppose."

For Ironside there was no question about it. "Hey, Ed, tell me - autistic people often have special talents, don't they?" he wanted to know.

After all the sleep Ed had missed over the past days and now with the adrenaline wearing off he was struggling to stay awake in the warm living-room. He was startled by the question. "Pardon?"

"Does Danny happen to have absolute pitch?"

"Huh...?" Ed shook his head trying to get the cobwebs out. After midnight he was neither awake enough to think about such a far-fetched topic nor really motivated.

"Yes, he does," answered Eve in his place. "What are you thinking about, Robert?"

"Has he ever discerned the sounds of car engines from one another?"  
This attack hadn't been the dogs' idea after all.

Ed pulled himself together. "Not that I know of."

"Then it's time he tried it!"

Again Eve was quicker than her husband. "You mean – maybe Danny could tell if the leaving car was a Chrysler by the sound of its motor?"

"Exactly that. Mark, I'm sure you have a video player and some tapes with movies involving cars, right?"

"Yessir, I do! And my daughters are big movie fans – which teenager isn't? I'm sure they would love to play movie sequences of cars for Danny to let him distinguish the sounds of the motors."

"That's exactly what I had in mind."

"Ok," said Ed groggily, "But he will have to listen from outside the house because of the smell. I'll get him."

"No, you won't! And we won't wake up Mark's twins either. This can wait until tomorrow. You, Chief Brown, will get some sleep now, and that's an order!" decided Eve.

Ironside shook his head, "No stamina, you young people!"

Fortunately Diana had already installed one of the self inflating mats and Ed's sleeping bag in the garage. Eve pulled her husband standing. He didn't need any more convincing. Anything remotely resembling a bed sounded just great.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Only minutes later Ed was startled by Danny's shouting though, "A dog, a dog, Daddy, help me!"

Clumsily he rose to his feet. But fortunately Danny had already fallen asleep again.

The dark shadows wouldn't leave Ed's mind. He preferred not to go back to sleep.

Not much later Eve came to check on her family. She found her husband leaning against the wall.

She sat down next to him, tousling his hair. "I wish you could sleep."

He hugged her tenderly. She was a wonderful woman, always there for him.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how many mistakes I made yesterday. It's a blessing that nothing serious happened to Jeremy and to Danny."

She didn't want to play down his feelings. His conscience was overdeveloped. She could not change this; it was part of his personality. But she would try to tell him that others didn't see things the same way. It was only his own standard which made him expect too much from himself.

"Honey, you haven't made any mistakes. Try not to blame yourself. Nobody else does. And nobody can deal with Danny as well as you can. I believe that the Lord committed him to our care because we are the best parents for him – and particularly because you are the best father for him."

After seeing Jeremy again she understood how Ed had subconsciously been open for Danny with his Asperger's syndrome. "The Lord knows that we are not perfect and that we don't know everything in advance. But he protects us. Didn't you feel it yesterday?"

"Thank you, Eve. You are right, we were protected."

"He won't leave us."

Her words and her presence let him finally relax, and when his head sank down onto her shoulder she let him rest.

Two hours later they woke up, and they were both rather stiff and cold. Softly Ed pulled Eve down onto the self inflating mat. It was just large enough for the two of them. She snuggled close to him. He couldn't go back to sleep, but he was comfortable with her in his arms.

At 6 am he felt happy and recovered.

Fortunately Mark's girls had holidays as well. Ironside let them sleep until 8 am. That was enough. They needed results. Mark had already singled out a number of movies where he expected the sounds of car motors could be studied.  
Danny didn't need to see the movies. It was better that he only hear the sounds.  
He took his assignment very seriously, sitting cross-legged in the garden below the open living-room window listening to the sounds in the movies. The girls enjoyed the pancakes their mother provided them with while fast-forwarding through some of their favorite movies and feeling like mastermind detectives.  
Danny had closed his eyes to make sure that he would _really_ not see anything. He didn't open them when the mail carrier passed by but grumbled, "Tell that guy to get away, he disturbs my concentration!"

The twins were only halfway through the pile of pancakes when Danny was sure that the motor he had heard the previous night was indeed a Chrysler's. They tested him with several further samples, but he didn't make any mistakes. He unfailingly identified Ford, Volkswagen, Toyota, Chevrolet, Honda... and of course Chrysler.

"And that's called handicap," mused Ironside.

"All right, and where does this leave us?" asked Mark a bit rhetorically.

"We have a bombing at the Transamerica Pyramid. A confessor, imam Avesda al Huq. We have a Chrysler driven by someone who has two dogs he speaks German to and who may be a suspect, since we also have an attack on Ed and Danny – rather Danny, I'd say, right?" resumed Eve.

"And we have Jeremy Wood who knows something which he can't tell but may have told Danny, or at least the culprit thinks so; something important enough to want to kill Danny," concluded Ironside.

Danny wasn't the least embarrassed about people discussing a possible attempt on his life. Dogs attacking people without any reason seemed to him like more of a threat than people who had logical reasons and could therefore be stopped by people like his father or Chief Ironside. He thought about what part of his knowledge might be dangerous for somebody else.

"Maybe we have something else," he announced.

He had everybody's full attention.

"Yesterday when I was with Jeremy, I saw his treasures: all sorts of electronic stuff, but also watches and some other items, some old things which I think Jeremy keeps for fun, not to sell them. He is very good at fixing things."

"I did some research," said Mark. "On Saturdays he goes to a market and sells some of his goods."

"What did you want to tell us, Danny?" Ed tried to bring his son back to his topic.

"As I said he collects all kinds of old things on that rubbish dump. But the things he found yesterday: portable radios, TV sets and radio alarm clocks – they were all new. I didn't think about it before, but this is a bit strange, isn't it?"

"You mean – they _looked_ new? How would you know that they _were_ new?" Involuntarily the Chief had barked his question in his old Ironside tone. He had tasted blood.

Danny fled to his father, hiding his face on his chest.

"It's all right, Danny," Ed calmed him. "We do believe you. Just explain us how you found out that they are new."

Danny swallowed hard, then he decided to comply. "They had price tags stuck on. The labels said that they were from the same shop."

"So they were _stolen_ from the same shop!" exclaimed Eve.

"Do you remember the label?" asked Ed.

"Alfredo's Electronics."

"Just a moment – you want to tell me that somebody stole them and then dumped them on the rubbish dump?" Ironside had troubles believing that.

"Yes – but they must have removed some parts of them. Without these Jeremy can't sell them."

"Do you know which parts were missing?" pressed Ed carefully.

"No."

"What are you waiting for?!" hollered Ironside over his shoulder and rolled towards the exit door.

Ed followed him with a few quick steps, starting to push the wheelchair. "We are waiting for you to tell us where we will find Jeremy."

"He found some very interesting stuff on the rubbish dump yesterday. He's going back today, believe me. Take Mark's car."

"Won't you join us?"

"No, I want to take Danny to a Chrysler garage. He has to listen to different models of Chrysler motors. Maybe he will be able to determine the model of the dog owner's car."

* * *

The nearest garage selling Chrysler, Dodge and Plymouth was owned by a happy-looking and very friendly Japanese named Hijoshi Nokomura.

To his amazement, but for Ironside not unexpectedly, Danny was able to identify the motor of last night's car very quickly: A Chrysler LeBaron. But when the owner of the garage slammed the driver's door shut, Danny pulled at Ironside's sleeve.

"Sir, could you tell him to open and close the trunk?"

Ironside didn't ask him what he expected to achieve by that. Nokomura complied, curious what this strange kid would say next.

"That's not what I heard," Danny declared. "Could you please try that one?" He pointed at a 1968 Town and Country.

"That's closer to the one I heard."

"The motor you heard doesn't fit this model, my boy," objected the owner.

"But the 1980s Town and Countries have this motor, right?" probed Ironside.

"Right! In that case I would suggest you look for a 2nd generation Chrysler LeBaron wagon; they were built from 1982 to 1988."

Ironside was mildly amused by Nokomura's astonishment about Danny's special talents. Then he noticed that Danny wanted to ask another question but didn't have the courage to do so. In his opinion answerable but unanswered questions hindered the thinking process. "Go ahead, he won't bite your head off!" he encouraged the boy.

"Sir, why do you, being Japanese, sell American cars? There are good Japanese cars as well, aren't there?"

Nokomura wasn't offended at all. He laughed wholeheartedly. "Japan is a wonderful country, and there are some wonderful cars. See, young man, I'm a Christian. Now – red is a nice color, isn't it? But the good Lord has chosen to paint the sky in blue, and that's nice too, very nice, I think. He has given us people the possibility to choose as well, and I have chosen to live in America and sell American cars. Isn't it marvelous to have the possibility to choose?"

An interesting philosophy, thought Ironside. Danny had not chosen his handicap, and he himself had not chosen his wheelchair. But they still had a lot of choices left. The old Japanese called this 'marvelous' – maybe it was.

Ironside thanked him for his help and left with the boy, who was deep in thought trying to integrate Nokomura's answer into his own thinking.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_Contrary to what it may seem to Americans, I do a lot of research while writing my stories. It is difficult, being a stranger and having to do it in my third foreign language. Sometimes the internet provides contradicting information, and so do helpful people. This was the case in the last paragraph. So – if there are any mistakes, please forgive me._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Just as the Chief predicted, Ed and Eve found Jeremy at the garbage dump.

Same as the day before Jeremy had started to build a pile of things he was interested in near the refuse bunker - though, prudent through experience, a little further away from it. He didn't interrupt his work. Therefore Ed climbed over the litter up to him. He had to walk around washing machines and bathtubs and avoid sharp edges of broken glass and metal.

Ed knew that he didn't need to try to be polite. He just started with his question, "Jeremy, you found these new portable radios, TV sets and such yesterday. What parts were missing?"

Obviously Ed had almost forgotten that not every autist was as eloquent as Danny. Jeremy looked helplessly at the ground. Maybe he didn't know the names of the missing parts or, more likely, he could not tell them, although he remembered well that Sgt. Brown had helped him and his mother when they had needed it.

Now that was a bit of a problem... An expert examining the stolen items would surely be able to name the missing parts, but they didn't have that much time left.

Ed had an idea. Out of the garbage he picked up a relatively modern, but obviously broken TV set - although not without difficulty since it was quite heavy. "Please – open this and show me those missing parts, will you?"

Jeremy nodded. In amazing speed he unscrewed the rear cover of the TV set, then of a radio.

He showed the detective what he would need to repair his new devices: Transistors, resistors, capacitors, diodes, integrated circuits, inductors.

Ed thanked him and fought his way back to Eve.

"What would somebody need these parts for?" she asked.

"They could build radio transmitters and receivers and remote controls for bombs... but they would also need ignition coils. If I were in their shoes I would get them from a junkyard. Maybe we have just discovered a trace of our bomb planter, or at least of an accomplice."

"That's great, but we can't do anything more here now," said Eve, who felt chilly. "Let's get back to Mark's."

* * *

Meanwhile it had cost Mark a simple phone call to Carl Reese plus five minutes to get the information that Alfredo's Electronics had reported a burglary ten days ago. No, it wasn't cleared up yet. Such crimes were rarely cleared up at all.

They met in Mark's living room. Since Diana was at her voluntary work – counseling people who could not afford a lawyer - Mark served them coffee. It was a nice reminder of old times, although it tasted even worse to their now spoilt palates than in 1970.

"Some things never change," Ironside quipped.

They exchanged their results.

Like in the old times Ironside took the initiative. "Next step: Mark, have Carl give us all the addresses of owners of blue Chrysler LeBaron wagons built between 1982 and 1988. And let Carl's boys cross-check this list with the list of Rottweiler owners. The dogs would have to be registered as potentially vicious and dangerous."

Before long Mark came back from the phone with a list of 23 addresses of owners of blue Chrysler LeBaron wagons which Carl had dictated to him... but not one of them had a Rottweiler.

"He may keep the dogs illegally. Let's start with the ones in San Francisco!" suggested Ironside.

At that they came down to 12.

"So we are looking for someone with a laboratory or something of the kind in his cellar and probably two Rottweilers. But I can't give Carl search warrants for a dozen houses at a time," complained Mark.

Ed scanned the names and addresses. Lost in thought he picked a pencil out of his shirt pocket and marked four of the names – those which seemed to be of German origin. "Mark, what's the address of Alfredo's Electronics?"

"450 Balboa."

Ironside snatched the list from Ed's hand. "Look here, there's a Thorsten Tappert. He lives at 981 Anza Street*. That's quite close to 450 Balboa. Let's start with that one."

Frowning and with a feeling of butterflies in his stomach Mark signed the warrant, then he called Cpt. Carl Reese again. Carl would have to get the second required signature.

After this was done, Ironside and Ed took off together, Ironside driving his van, Carl followed in his own car. They parked near the suspect's house.

Ironside observed the two policemen with interest. Carl and Ed hadn't met since the seventies. They had worked well together back then, but there had sometimes been some signs of jealousy of the older Lieutenant towards the younger Sergeant for his position as the Chief's assistant. Although Reese had legally outranked him, everybody used to listen to Ed, 'his master's voice'.

As they met again after all these years, the differences were even more pronounced. Reese, although a Captain now, was still the old-fashioned, willing worker type, thinking along established paths – old school and good at it. He had become a bit larger and portlier as well. Ed in turn was leaner and also more alert than ever. Ironside had given him the best training a detective could have, and later on Ed had further developed his intellectual side. He appreciated the modern aspects of police work.

A brawny hand firmly pressed a wiry one and the San Francisco Captain accepted the Denver Chief's offer to help.

Together the three men approached 981 Anza. The Chrysler wagon was parked at the roadside. A stairs led up to the main entrance door. "Help me get up there, will you?" said Ironside, addressing rather Carl than Ed.

Backwards, Carl pulled the chair up the stairs, while Ed pushed from below and Ironside helped with his strong arms.

Carl rang the bell. The door was opened by an athletic man in his thirties with intelligent eyes: the new type of desk criminal.

"Mr. Tappert? Cpt. Reese, San Francisco police. We have a search warrant for your apartment."

Carl presented his badge and the warrant. Ironside heard a growling dog in the background. He held his gun at the ready.

He had the impression that Tappert was trying to hide his feelings, but Ironside was too experienced to overlook a hint of a bad conscience. Was the suspect assessing how much the police knew about him and his dogs? At any rate he found it highly improbable that the man was innocent.

Tappert was smart enough not to resist the concentrated police power he was facing. He shrugged. "Come in."  
He was speaking with a distinct German accent.

The first thing Ed noticed was a computer on a desk in the room to the right. "May I?"

Carl nodded. "You have the official permission of the Commissioner."

Behind one of the doors the growl became louder. "One of your dogs is hurt, isn't it?" asked Ironside.

"Err – yes, he is."

Ironside didn't hide his gun, and Tappert understood the signal.

"You don't have a dog license," stated Carl matter-of-factly.

Tappert nodded. "How much will it cost me?"

"I don't know. That's not my beef with you."

Ironside knew what he was looking for. He opened a door to the left. This seemed to be a working room. On a table he saw some electronic devices... very probably the kind of material Jeremy was missing.

"Bingo," he said and rolled over to Reese, who was guarding Tappert.

"You will face a charge of illicit arms-trafficking. Don't add terrorism to it!"

"I have nothing to do with terrorism! You can't pin that on me!"

"But you do produce and sell radio transmitters and receivers and remote controls for bombs, don't you?"

The guy who could resist Ironside's overwhelming personality had yet to be born, thought Reese.

"I'll tell you everything if I get total immunity with witness protection program and all."

"No promises," said Reese. He had learned that sentence a long time ago from Ironside. "But it'll sure be better for you if you make a statement."

"Ok, ok, I made the electronic stuff. I sold it to those who are ready to pay for it. But I don't know my customers, no names, no addresses, no phone numbers. It's safer for me and for them."

Carl glanced at the computer Ed was working at.

"Chief, look at that!" the captain shouted and grinned when not one, but two heads turned around towards him.

Reese pointed at the computer screen.

Ironside rolled over to Ed. "What about it?"

"No password, no internet connection, no problem," answered Brown.  
He opened some of the stored files, commenting them in short, "No addresses, but enough dates and background information to indirectly identify the buyers. This here must be the IRA – that one the Basque separatists ETA – and then there are some files related to the Mob of San Francisco, if I remember well. I'm sure Carl will be able to place them. And this here," the file took longer to open than the others, since it wasn't just text, but a graphic design, "this is the most important one for our case, I suppose."

There was a plan Ironside recognized as being a sketch of the Transamerica Pyramid, a scan of a hand drawing.

Ed scrolled down the same document. A second sketch appeared. "What's that?" asked Ironside, fascinated.

Ed had a head start. "The Asian Arts Museum, if I'm not mistaken." He'd had to work there once in the seventies and therefore he recognized the plan.

Ironside turned towards Reese. "Carl, what happened at the Asian Arts Museum and when?"

"There was a robbery the same day as the bombing at the TA pyramid, but in the early morning... You mean... Yes, there were explosives used, but the damage was minimal. We didn't make it public because the museum's director was afraid of bad publicity. Several paintings were stolen. We thought that the perpetrators were the same, these Islamist extremists; that they wanted to scare the people in the museum. Numan denied every involvement in that one as well."

"Or it was a good way to find a fall guy, wasn't it?" Probably they had lured Numan to the pyramid to make him the scapegoat. It wasn't difficult to get his senile but once militant father to confessing to such an act of violence.

Carl was impressed by Ironside's and Ed's efficiency. But then – he knew Ironside and his former prize pupil half of his life. He was now capable of acknowledging their help which prevented an error of justice.

"There's something else, Chief." Obviously Brown still thought of Ironside as 'the Chief'. He pointed at the screen. There was a third drawing.

"Any idea of what this could be? Tappert?" asked Ironside.

The German shook his head. "No. I don't know where my customers use the explosives. But this customer gave me a floppy disc with some drawings, asking me how much of what explosives they would need to cause the explosion of the desired size. Later I noticed that they used much less than what I'd told them would be necessary in the pyramid. And I won't _ever_ take the risk to deposit the remote controls at a crime scene again!"

He stopped, embarrassed. He would not have to take any risks with remote controls anytime soon...

"It could be a bank building," suggested the Chief, pointing on the third picture at something which could be a counter.

"A bank robbery would fit well into that customer's profile," mused Ed.

"Carl – were there any bank hold-ups involving explosives recently?" Ironside queried.

"No. I'm sure I would know about that. Explosives are quite a popular topic these days."

"Mr. Tappert, have you delivered your merchandise for this activity yet?" asked Ed.

"No. It's supposed to be delivered tonight."

"Where?" Ironside wanted to know.

"I don't know yet. I will get a phone call at short notice."

"We will be with you."

"What?!" Carl could not believe it. "You want to let him deliver the remote controls for another crime?"

Ironside rolled his eyes. "Of course!"

Carl's shirt collar felt too tight all of a sudden. But he knew the Chief. If he wanted to set a trap for the people behind all this, he would not be able to talk him out of it, no matter how dangerous it would be.

* * *

_*This address exists, but please remember that the entire story is purely fictional!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tappert didn't ask whether it would serve his own cause if he helped the police. But he knew that the only chance he had left was working along the lines of this amazing man in the wheelchair.

"I always go to a rendezvous with my dogs. I don't want to meet some crooks without any defense." He still didn't seem to see himself as a crook. "I'm not sure whether I will be able to keep them back from you, Chief Brown." He looked as if in hindsight he were highly surprised that Ed had survived the attack unscathed.

"Why did you let your dogs loose on Chief Brown in the first place?" Ironside wanted to know.

Tappert hesitated, then he decided to come out with the truth. Everything else would not lead anywhere with this sharp detective. "I didn't know who he was until he came here.  
"You know – partly I get my material on the dumping grounds. I often encountered that crazy guy - I think his name is Jeremy something. He saw me do my job. Up to yesterday I thought that he was no problem for me, no matter what he saw. He freaked out whenever somebody got near him. Therefore it didn't matter if he knew anything about me or not, he could not spill the beans about me. Yesterday I went to the refuse incinerator with a rented mini truck, because I had to get rid of some rubbish. I saw Jeremy _talking_ to this man – not knowing that he was a police Chief – and to his kid who seemed to be rather strange as well. And these two could very well spill the beans about me. I must have arrived just after that incident where both Jeremy and Mr. Brown were almost killed. The operator told me about it. I admit that I panicked. The dogs seemed to be an easy way to put them to flight. Of course I would not have tried this knowing that he was a police officer! I asked the operator if he knew any one of you, and he gave me Judge Sanger's address. Secretly I observed the property. When I noticed that they put up a tent in the garden... well, it was a mistake. Suppose I'm glad that nothing happened."

Ed didn't tell him how glad _he_ was.

* * *

The phone call didn't come in until 10pm. Ironside and Ed had informed Mark and Ed's family that they would not be around during the day. Eve had taken advantage of the situation to visit her parents with Danny.

As a precaution for the setup Carl organized some officers who had to be available during the following night.

"After I was almost caught at the Pyramid… they have all kinds of crazy ideas now. This time they want me to come to Gray Whale Cove State Beach at 1am," reported Tappert. "From there I have to walk north along the waterline. I will find a kayak somewhere. There I have to deposit the backpack with the remote controls they have ordered, and the money will be there as well. And no witnesses, of course. Maybe they have noticed that the police suspect something and therefore they are now anxious."

It meant that Ironside would not be able to join them, since it was a sandy and rocky beach. "You won't take your Rottweilers with you." It wasn't a question.

At first Tappert tried to protest, but Ironside remained firm. The dogs would have been far too dangerous for everybody and particularly for Ed.

Carl had to make new arrangements. If the number of men involved was too large they would be spotted. He only kept the best ones in the plan: Young, intelligent, strong men. He could let two of them pursue Tappert, but not more. A group could use a modified fishing boat to get close by without attracting attention.

"If the kayak is far from Gray Whale Cove State Beach, then I won't be able to follow Tappert there," he regretted. The terrain was rough there. This was a physically challenging job, and he was one year before retirement, after all!

"I want Ed there," stated Ironside.

The latter smiled. Of course he would want that. Still Ed felt the trust behind his old mentor's words, and it meant very much to him.

"You still expect quite a lot from this guy, don't you?" grinned Carl, nudging Ed's ribs.

"At least he's a little better than the rest of that entire useless bunch," Ironside pointed out, softening his words with a grin, "always was. I trained him myself, after all." He didn't doubt for a second that his former sergeant would keep up with a bunch of rookies, no matter how athletic they were.

Ironside himself would have to wait in his van, and not too close by.

Ed went back to Mark's to change into clothes more suitable for their plans. He had taken along blue jeans and sneakers, and Mark lent him a dark sweater. Fortunately Eve wasn't back from her visit to her parents. She would be awful worried, therefore it was better to just let Mark tell her that there would be a stakeout of some kind.

Carl dropped two of his men - Frederick Mason, who had found the bomb at the TA Pyramid and his colleague Tim Saunders - and Ed early at Gray Whale Cove State Beach. Both officers were young, athletic and fit. Saunders was carrying a mobile radio, Mason a strong flashlight. They had abstained from using night-vision goggles: the weather forecast announced some fog. Therefore the SFPD's goggles would be useless. Only the boat would have a heavy night-vision device.

"No heroics, Ed, please. Even though the Commissioner officially accepts your collegial assistance – this isn't your town anymore," warned Carl. Ironside snorted through his nose.

"It's called holidays, if I remember well," smiled Ed.

* * *

Ed, Mason and Saunders hid behind some rocks halfway down the waterline and waited for Tappert to turn up. Ironside followed Tappert in the van to make sure that he would not try a getaway. He would drive on a bit and then park somewhere nearby. An unmarked police car would wait towards Half Moon Bay.

While Ed and Carl's men were waiting, the fog was coming in from the Ocean. A jacket would have been a good idea. Ed felt already chilly. The fog would make it difficult not to lose sight of Tappert.

The German arrived on time. He used a flashlight to find his way down the footpath and stairs to get to the waterfront, then he crossed the sandy beach and followed the shore line north. Where the beach ended, he had to start climbing over the rocks. Partly they were slippery, and the fog made this into a scary, arduous adventure. Ed and Carl's two young officers didn't know where they would be watched from, but they were very likely being watched from _somewhere_. Of course flashlights were out of question for them; that way following Tappert in the darkness was absolutely crazy. Probably that was the idea behind this assignment.

Where the heck was that kayak?!

They went around the Bunkers, which meant more dangerous climbing. Their hands were scratched and dirty. Each of the young police officers thought about capitulating and turning back. Yet as long as the older man didn't show any sign of giving up they had to hang on, thought Mason. Brown, this blasted recycled ex-sergeant, looked as if he, Mason, could easily beat up two of his kind before breakfast, but man, was that a tough guy!

* * *

Ironside drove his van slowly north on Devil's Slide trail. The fog was far too thick to get a glimpse of Tappert's flashlight. Where in blazes were Ed and his people? Where was that kayak? He was only half as confident as he had pretended to be towards Carl, who was now sitting in the passenger seat, the radio microphone in his nervous hand. Darkness, fog and dangerous rocks made this a challenge for every cop. Were Carl's people cautious enough? Would Ed have enough stamina to pull this operation through? Even the boat could get into trouble in the shallow water.

* * *

It was very dark and more than once one of the men slipped and almost fell. Ed didn't feel cold at all anymore. There was something good in everything, he thought ironically.

After what seemed an eternity they saw the shine of the pocket lamp turn towards an object in the water. This had to be the kayak. Carefully they ducked behind some boulders and tried to keep track of what was going on. The dancing light only let them guess: Now Tappert bent down to look for the money... now he pulled it out... now he put the backpack with the remote controls into the kayak... now he turned around and started to walk back...

"Stop! Put the money to the ground!" shouted a voice out of the fog, and then another, stronger light shone up. Clearly Ed saw the shadow of an object, which was kept by the same hands as the torchlight: a shotgun.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The big question was: had the three policemen gone unnoticed up to now?

Carl's cops seemed to be convinced of it. They jumped down from behind their rock and managed to subdue the man with the gun.

Yet the more experienced Denver Chief, who had contained himself, heard something else. Higher up there had to be another man. Therefore he remained covered. It was too late to warn the policemen. A strong spotlight was directed at the group of four and immediately afterwards a machine gun started to rattle. Ed knew the sound: it was a Kalashnikov. A man cried out. Ed pulled his gun and took one single shot at the light – and scored. It went out. The machine gun fired into his direction now but didn't hit him.

* * *

Ironside heard the shots: a volley of gunfire from a Kalashnikov, a single shot from a handgun, then the Kalashnikov again.

It took a lot to get Ironside worried, but now he was _very_ worried. The police officers were fighting with handguns against an AKM – in the fog.

Impatiently he picked up the radio microphone and called the crew of the fishing boat.

"Yes, we heard the gunfire, but our vision isn't too good."

He exchanged a glance with Carl and gave him the microphone back.

"Go in, but carefully!" barked Carl.

They would know what they had to do.

* * *

The sound of rumbling stones told Ed that the other man was fleeing upwards.

Ed decided to follow him. It was risky – ok, more like crazy – to challenge a man with an AKM with a simple .38. But that man might either lead him to the gangster boss – or even be the boss himself. There had to be quite a guy behind the crimes they were investigating right now. Ed had no intention of letting him get away.

He assumed that the man wanted to climb up the steep cliff and reach one of the trails on top. To Ed it seemed as if the criminal was making more noise than himself. Either he was faster or – more likely – heavier. Ed was in quite good shape physically, but because of his adversary's superior armament Ed could not risk getting too close to him. Therefore he decided to climb upwards as fast as possible and try to get ahead of him.

* * *

The crooks had chosen a relatively quiet part of the shoreline to berth their kayak. The police officers on the boat were experienced seamen. Carefully securing the area they put their dinghy to sea and landed safely.

Their colleagues onshore had kept very quiet, afraid that the man with the AKM would shoot at them again. None of them had been hit. The man crying out had been the one who had stopped Tappert.  
The headlight of the boat pulled them out of the veil of darkness, but nothing happened. Relieved they got up and helped the injured criminal into the dinghy.

"Where's Chief Brown?" asked one of the sailors. Nobody had seen him since before the shooting.

Neither illuminating the short part of the shoreline the headlight could penetrate nor shouting brought any result.

They radioed back to Reese and Ironside and informed them in short words.

Of course it was possible that Ed was lying somewhere near the water – dead or injured, thought Ironside. But if he didn't react to the shouting, then chances were intact that he was pursuing the guy with the AKM.

"Take Tappert and the injured criminal back to us!" ordered Ironside, not waiting for Carl's agreement this time.

"But Chief!" Carl was too appalled to claim that this was _his_ operation. "We have a man with a handgun against a gangster with a Kalashnikov out there, we can't leave him alone!"

"This is Ed Brown we are talking about. He'll be at least as safe alone as amidst a horde of inexperienced cops!" barked Ironside, although he felt much less at ease than he wanted to make believe. But the alternative was almost for sure more dangerous for Ed.

The boat took the four men back to Gray Whale Cove State Beach in no time. Up on the road they met with Carl.

* * *

It was tough climbing up in the darkness. Eve would call him stubborn or something worse. Ed had to mobilize all his strength and his skills into getting up the steep slope. Moreover he had to climb faster than his adversary, but as silently as possible.  
He heard the voices of the policemen shouting something down at the waterfront, but in the fog their words were not understandable.  
At long last he reached a footpath. He suppressed his panting and tried to hear where the shooter was. Then he saw the shine of a torchlight towards San Pedro Point. The man carrying it was obviously not as fit as Ed, who heard his wheezing breathing.  
Quickly he sneaked forward, hiding behind a tree, where he expected the crook to hit the track.

* * *

Meanwhile the injured criminal was brought to Ironside.

"What's your name?"

"Glen Harper. I need a doctor!" he whined.

"And we need to find your partner first."

"I don't know where he is!"

"Where did you leave your car?"

"At Grey Whale Cove Trail."

Ironside was convinced that he was lying. He had grilled many a man. His mind worked like a lie detector.

"Covering up for your partner won't help you."

"He's not my partner, but my boss, and I won't tell you anything about him. I know my rights. I want a doctor."

"Are you ready to take the blame for him? The public wants a culprit for the bomb attack at the Transamerica Pyramid, and they don't care much if it is not the right one. What if your boss actually _wanted_ to hit you? Give it a thought. At this close range he would not miss with a Kalashnikov."

Harper nodded. His arm hurt, and somehow he had known all along that his boss would drop him like a hot potato if something went wrong. He just didn't want to admit it.

"It's Norman Slade. His car is parked on the North Ridge Trail."

That was near San Pedro Point.

"I know the guy," said Carl, daunted. "He's a big mobster, and by 'big' I mean really big, not only a big number, but also big in person, 250 pounds or so and infamous for his brutality. If he doesn't get Ed with his AKM he just has to clobber him. Ed doesn't stand a chance against someone of his caliber. We absolutely have to send men out and try to find them... in case Ed is still alive at all."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Ed's only chance lies in his alertness," objected Ironside. "If we make a lot of noise around him, he won't be able to spot Slade. No – let's drive towards San Pedro Point and hope that he'll show up there."

Reluctantly Carl agreed and informed his men.

Ironside started his van with Carl and the prisoner in the back, while the other officers followed in a police van.

* * *

When the bulky frame of the man with the Kalashnikov appeared on the small trail Ed could not avoid noticing that not only his weapon outclassed Ed's by far... well, maybe getting in his way wasn't such a good idea after all. Ed could not risk any kind of fight with him.

But then he noticed that the man was totally out of breath. Maybe that was Ed's opportunity.

"Drop your gun!" he shouted.

The criminal turned around to point at him, but far too slowly for the detective.

With a smooth, quick movement Ed kicked the gun out of his hands, pulling back immediately. One blow of these mighty fists could knock him out. He switched his flashlight on and picked the gun up. He pointed both light and gun at the man. "Put your hands on your head where I can see them. Then walk south."

Ed was almost surprised when the gangster raised his hands and surrendered.

The problem was now to bring him into custody. As soon as he would catch his breath he would be dangerous again...

* * *

"Harper, what was the idea behind that attack at the Transamerica Pyramid?" asked Ironside on their way. Every information might help them catch Slade or protect Ed. Carl had made a makeshift bandage around Harper's injured arm and given him a painkiller.

"Slade wanted the police to believe that some Islamic extremists were on the war path."

"He used that idea to commit the robbery in the Asian Arts Museum, right?" The choice of Slade's weapon – a Kalashnikov – fitted that plan as well.

"It worked, but the police was a bit too fast to put that imam behind bars, because that old sucker confessed to something he hadn't done; the plan was to rob a bank tomorrow with the same cover and then getting the Muslims behind bars with a lot of noise."

"Mason finding the bomb too early was just bad luck as well, right?"

"Totally so. Why would we want Tappert to be caught?"

Meanwhile they had reached San Pedro Point. Silently most of the police officers got out of the cars, hiding behind some trees, listening intensely and ready to take action as soon as Cpt. Reese would switch on the headlights of Ironside's van.

* * *

Ed had to make quite a detour, but walking was much easier here than along the waterline. Still it would be a long, dangerous way back to Gray Whale Cove State Beach, where he expected to meet Ironside, Carl and his men. He was careful to keep a good distance from the brute, but as of now Slade didn't try to give him any troubles. He stumbled along the footpath towards the trail and then on the trail southwards. Brown was tired as well, but adrenaline and his sense of duty kept him going.

* * *

Despite of his higher age Ironside was the first who heard the sound of approaching footsteps. When a glimmer of a light became visible he signed Carl to turn on the headlights.

At first Reese only saw a big man in the headlights. After a moment of shock he noticed the detective behind him.

"Hey Ed, you should know better than to scare old police officers out of their socks!" he shouted and jumped out of the van.

He handcuffed Slade who was still breathing heavily. Ed had kept rushing him, but no one could guess when he would be recovered. Then it would not be advisable to get in his way.

"How are Mason and Saunders?" asked Ed worried. He was greatly relieved that he didn't have to walk his prisoner all the way back to Gray Whale Cove State Beach. How had the Chief found out where to expect him? He would hear about that soon enough.

"They are fine. Just Slade's companion got hurt, but he'll live." Ironside pointed at the man in the back of the van.

Only now Ed permitted himself to relax.

Ironside noticed that he was swaying slightly. He wanted to spare him the embarrassment of looking beat in front of the younger generation. "Hop in, I want to hear that story," he barked, and Carl got the hint. He stowed the prisoners and the officers in the police van. Ironside's was private, after all.

"Chief, Ed, we'll see you at headquarters," he said and gave the friends some privacy.

Ironside glanced at his friend's angular face which was looking drawn. "Take all the time you need."

This sentence triggered old memories and made Ed chuckle. "Up to three minutes, right?"

"Two," corrected Ironside, then, turning serious, "How did you do that?"

Coming from him this was more than praise, rather like being decorated.

"With luck and by playing a lot of basketball lately." He was referring to his training the juvenile offenders in the Denver prison, which kept him fit.

Ironside nodded. It was very much like Ed to play down his contribution. He hadn't quite expected that Ed would have to face a guy like Slade. He was glad that his friend was still standing. But he had been right all along – Ed had handled things just the way he had trained him.

* * *

When finally the crooks were booked, all the evidence was secured and Ironside and Ed got out of police headquarters, morning dawned. Mark, Diana and Eve were already up – or was it rather 'still'?

Mark had managed to calm the women, who had started to worry.

Diana, who was delighted to have a 'big family' around, served them a large breakfast. But before they had all sat down they heard a piercing scream. It had to be Danny, who, as requested, had received a tray in the van. Ed was the fastest to sprint out and follow his son, who was running down the road. He caught the frightened boy just before he collided with an approaching car.

It turned out that the twins, still a little sore that an anthill had been preferred over them, had placed three ants into the box containing Danny's breakfast.

Naturally, Mark scolded them.  
Eve however tried to explain to them that they had done nothing wrong. It was really just a harmless prank. They were teenagers after all, not angels. Danny just couldn't handle such pranks.  
Ironside felt that she was close to tears. It had to be tough to always excuse and explain the extreme behavior of one's child, and having to carry this burden all alone with a husband away far too often. Maybe he should have a word or two with Ed about this.

Yet later on, when peace had returned to the Sanger household, Ironside saw Eve and Ed sit in the backyard together.  
Even from behind they looked as if they were very much in love. It was true, Eve had to carry too much, but Ed knew it, and at least he gave her all the love he was capable of giving. Eve was a strong woman. Somehow he thought she would manage – maybe even be happy.

* * *

In the afternoon, Ironside was sitting outside and reading. A car parked in front of the house. Mark was in court, Ed was asleep in a real bed in the house and the women were out shopping with the girls.

Getting out of the car was Numan al Huq. He looked remarkably calm and unaffected after his time in prison.

Ironside invited him into the front yard.

"I just wanted to thank you and Judge Sanger – and whoever helped solve this case. It's a special experience for me. People who don't even know me and who belong to a different religion did a lot to help me. This is a strong sign of hope not only for me but also for our world."

"Justice has to be done. Usually our system works quite well, but sometimes it is hard to find the real culprits. I'm glad that it worked out, and I'm convinced that your people need you. Your spirit of openness is what will help people of different religions understand one another. I have to thank you for that."

They parted as friends.

Danny showed up with a book in his hands, using one finger as a bookmark. He had been reading in Ironside's van, and obviously he had heard Ironside's conversation with the imam through the open garage window.

"Daddy!" He shouted and headed towards the house.

"Danny, what's so important that you have to wake up your father?" asked Ironside as the boy passed him.

"There's something I don't understand."

Daniel Brown and his odd, sometimes downright philosophical questions!  
Many things were unintelligible in his universe, particularly the behavior of people and animals. Usually his parents helped him to bring some kind of order into his chaos. Ironside understood this well, but Eve was in town and Ed had been worn out after last night's athletic challenge.

"Maybe I could help you understand? You know, when your daddy was young he often asked my advice. Why don't you try me?"

Danny hesitated. Ironside was a very smart man... and his dad trusted him with his life...

"Why did that Arabic man thank you?"

Ok – an autistic child didn't feel the need to say thank you. Ironside knew that his parents, both being very polite people by nature, tried very hard to help him understand why a minimum of politeness was necessary in this world.

"Mark Sanger, your father and I proved that he was in prison while innocent. You, Jeremy and the twins helped us as well. He's glad that he's out of prison now. When people feel thankful they thank others."

"I know that, of course!" corrected Danny indignantly. "I'm not stupid. But the man was innocent. He should not have been put into prison in the first place. Why should he be thankful for being out? Actually someone should apologize to him for the unjust treatment."

Surprised Ironside looked at the boy. He was showing more insight here than most twelve-year-olds... and more than many adults.

"You are right, my friend. See – injustice happens sometimes. We all try to avoid it, but we are not God. We can't always be sure, or we need some time to find out the truth. That's why Mr. Al Huq had to stay in prison for some time.

"He could have gone to the newspapers or stir up his friends. The result could be religious riots."  
He wasn't sure if the child would know the word 'riot' at all, but at least he nodded. "He has chosen to start the process of reconciliation. He's an awe-inspiring man."

"You mean - peace has to start on the side of the one who was _wronged_?" Danny frowned. "That's tough for the one who was ill-treated already: that he has to do the first step additionally!"

He thought about it, and Ironside didn't interrupt him.

"But I think it makes sense. It would not work the other way round, would it?"

"Exactly. You can't go around and hit somebody and then offer him peace. But if you have been hit you can turn the other cheek – in a figurative sense," Ironside added quickly, remembering that autists tended to understand things verbatim.

The knowledge of the other cheek wasn't new, but after 2,000 years it was still a challenge.

Recycling of values. But wherever someone was able to put it into practice it was a strong sign of hope, as Numan had put it.

* * *

The women returned from their 'foray', as Mark called it, happily, proudly even presenting their prey.

Everybody except Danny, who still lived in the garage, sat down at the table. Jeremy had been invited to join the little celebration. The dinner Diana and Eve had prepared together smelled delicious – but before they could dig in the doorbell rang... as always when they were about to eat.

Mark answered it and came back with Carl Reese.

"Chief, Ed, Mark, you did great. We have enough confessions to bring Slade behind bars for a long time, and his consorts will get their time as well, but they helped us a lot."

"Why don't you look happy then?" queried Ironside.

"Well, actually there's another problem. There's this other case..."

Ironside grinned. "No way to get me back to work, Captain. Tomorrow I'll get a nice present for my Katherine and then travel back home."

Eve shook her head. "I think I'm downright happy that Ed got a call to come back to Denver. San Francisco is wonderful, but somehow I get the impression that we are safer in Denver. We'll fly home tomorrow."

Diana's beautiful eyes flared up. "Don't you even think of it, Judge Sanger! You have two teenage daughters. One needs braces and the other is lovesick. We need you at home!"

Ironside grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Carl, you will get the credit for the bombing case. Now this is your chance to finally make it to Commander. Good luck!"

* * *

**Epilogue**

After dinner Ironside wanted to use the bathroom, yet Danny was standing in his way. Did an urgent need force him to enter the house although it was 'stinking'? He was contemplating a package of toilet paper on a low shelf, or rather its inscription. Ironside bent forward to read it.

"Made with 100% Recycled Paper", it said.

Danny shook his head in lack of understanding. Finally he asked the smart man in the wheelchair, "Sir, can you tell me how on earth they recycle _toilet_ paper?"

* * *

_**Author's note:**_

Again Lemonpig has done a great job correcting my story. Sometimes it is tough to get me to write proper English. It's not her fault if there are still some mistakes in my text, but my own stubbornness!

Thank you, my dear readers and reviewers, for your much appreciated support!

(And yes, the last paragraph - and not only this one - was written by real life!)


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